


Sparring Practice

by hypatia



Series: The Incredibly True Adventures of 2 Hackers in Love [8]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Leverage
Genre: Gen, Gratuitous Movie References, Hardison and Parker are mentioned but don't appear in this one, How well do you really know your coworkers?, They're both professionals, drawing on skin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23831638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypatia/pseuds/hypatia
Summary: Eliot Spencer and James Bond have a conversation after Q reveals how one of Bond's colleagues died.--"If Hardison is as good as Q says…” said Bond.“He is,” said Eliot.“Then I have no doubt between the two of them they can keep an eye on MI6.” He snorted a laugh. “Or track a falcon on a cloudy day.”Eliot turned to face Bond. “Did you just quoteThe Princess Bride?”
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Q (James Bond)
Series: The Incredibly True Adventures of 2 Hackers in Love [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568371
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	Sparring Practice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grlcookery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grlcookery/gifts).



> This is the second fic inspired by a comment from grlcookery on the first fic I posted in this series.
> 
> This takes place immediately following Contingency Plans: Debrief in this series.

Bond recognized that his conversation with Q—with Will—was over and stood up. “Thank you. For everything,” he said. Will saluted him. Bond returned it, then turned to go.

“Let me walk you out,” said Eliot.

Bond paused for a moment, looking back at Will, who tilted his head in the slightest nod. “Of course,” he said.

They exited the pub together and stood next to each other near the top of the staircase. Neither spoke for a moment,.

“I might need to hit something,” said Bond conversationally.

“There’s a boxing gym nearby,” Eliot pointed to his right. “I could give you directions.”

“I would appreciate that.” He hesitated. “Need a sparring partner?”

“Yes,” said Eliot. “But I can’t today. If you’re still around tomorrow morning, we could arrange something.”

“I am. I didn’t know what he might need from me, so I planned to stay at least a couple of days.”

Eliot nodded and gave Bond his number. “Probably best if we don’t tell them,” he gestured back into the pub.

“What’s the concern?” asked Bond, confused.

“I wouldn’t want an unfair advantage,” Eliot smirked. “I’m guessing your experience sparring doesn’t include a small but enthusiastic audience whose idea of encouragement is to yell ‘Now kiss!’”

“That would be new to my experience, yes,” admitted Bond. “Parker?”

“Both of them. I think Hardison actually started it,” he glanced over at Bond. “And I’m willing to bet your quartermaster would join in.”

Bond shook his head. “This morning, I’d have taken that bet, confident he would do no such thing. On the other hand, just over three months ago, I didn’t know he’d served in the military. Three weeks ago, I discovered he periodically DJs a Thursday night rave. Today… Well.” Bond paused. “I’m glad he knew Dalton. I’m glad Dalton didn’t die alone.”

“Do you think he knew him—well enough?” asked Eliot.

Bond looked into the distance. “That line about agents being ‘suspicious bastards and convincing liars’? That was Dalton’s line. Haven’t heard it since his memorial. It was an in-joke among 00s. He may have hoped Will would repeat it to one of us, a signal we could trust him. Could even be a hint he knew what MI6 pulled if I knew the context where he said it.” He shook his head. “No way to know. But now I wonder what else I don’t know about my quartermaster.”

Eliot glanced over, “Have you seen any of his artwork?”

“Art?” Bond thought for a moment. “I’ve seen him doodle in meetings. Usually schematics or, on occasions when he was particularly bored, highly improbable weapons.”

Eliot looked thoughtful for a moment. “The pieces I’ve seen were metallic ink on dark backgrounds. One was—quite striking.”

“That might be familiar,” said Bond after a moment. “The background on his monitor was a computer chip, at a bit of an angle,” he held up a hand to demonstrate, “drawn in in silver with flecks of gold. On a navy background I think.”

Eliot nodded. “Hardison has the original. If you look closely, it looks like the chip was woven. It’s an in-joke between the two of them: a reference to the history of computing, Jacquard looms and punch cards.”

Bond shook his head. “I never got close enough to see that kind of detail.”

“Will drew it for Hardison just before he joined MI6. But it was the other piece that really caught my attention.” Eliot took out his phone and poked around for a moment, then held the phone so Bond could see the screen.

It was a picture of gold wings, drawn in exquisite detail, on what was, quite obviously, Alec Hardison’s back.

“Q drew that,” said Bond, stunned.

Eliot nodded, then gave a sly smile. “Want to see the front?”

Bond raised his eyebrows in surprise, then nodded.

Eliot swiped to the next picture and a very smug Alec Hardison stared out of the screen at Bond, torso covered from collarbones to hips in vines with silver and gold leaves. It was stunning.

“That’s not a recent picture,” observed Bond.

“No. Not quite three years ago, a few weeks after the explosion at your headquarters, Hardison got a text one evening. He was on the next plane to London, stayed three nights, came home covered in art.”

“That would’ve been when Q—when Will—discovered the truth about Dalton.”

“Seems like,” said Eliot. “Hardison wouldn’t talk about it.”

“How long have you known Will?”

Eliot’s lips quirked. “I met him yesterday afternoon.”

Bond looked at him in disbelief. “And you’re going to potentially go up against MI6 for him?”

“Yeah,” said Eliot. “It’s what we do.” He explained, briefly, how Leverage worked.

“Fascinating,” said Bond. “It sounds like he may have a chance after all. If Hardison is as good as he says…”

“He is,” said Eliot.

“Then I have no doubt between the two of them they can keep an eye on MI6.” He snorted a laugh. “Or track a falcon on a cloudy day.”

Eliot turned to face Bond. “Did you just quote _The Princess Bride_?”

Bond smirked. “When you have as much post-injury downtime as I have, you watch a lot of movies.”

“Well, you won Hardison over with the _Fellowship of the Ring_ quote.”

Bond’s smile widened. “I think that may be the first time I’ve ever surprised that man. It took me ages to figure out how to survive my last mission, and now I realize he’d already worked it out for me.”

“So, he’s really that good?” asked Eliot.

“Better,” said Bond. “His mission planning is impeccable. The agency rates him as potentially dangerous as a rogue state with WMDs. Do not have any illusions about what they might do if they determine he’s still alive and a threat to them.”

“FBI and CIA turf. That could get dicey.”

“MI6 will happily ask forgiveness rather than permission if it comes to that.”

Eliot nodded grimly.

“M may have made a grave error by implying Q made a mistake if the 00s and R get the real story from his mouth,” said Bond. “His message to them could take most of MI6’s manpower out of the equation. The 00s will tell the more junior agents. And if R shares any of that with the Q-branch staff? They were _fiercely_ loyal to him.

“M may end up having to call in a favor from CIA.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “I may be able to do something about that… I have some thinking to do, and I shouldn’t keep you. Tomorrow morning?”

“Absolutely,” said Eliot.

Bond turned to go, then looked back and grinned, tilting his head toward the pub. “Invite them. I could use the challenge.”


End file.
